


Car Crashes and Dog Talk

by orphan_account



Category: Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cute, Dogs, Fluff, Frerard, Gay, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3561653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way hits Frank Iero in his car, and he's the only person who shows up to the hospital. </p><p>Check this out first for the technical beginning of the story:<br/><a href="https://40.media.tumblr.com/52a2b43af7a61fdfec5d05f255f21829/tumblr_nlauiz0g1W1rbvus9o1_1280.jpg">First Part</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Crashes and Dog Talk

Two days later.

Gerard finds himself at the hospital, shifting as he waits in line to talk to the receptionist. The woman in front of him is almost in hysterics, shouting some nonsense about her husband and a mistress and _the children!_ It brings a frown to Gerard’s face, but it’s also a nice reminder that his life doesn’t suck as bad as it _could._ Yeah, his job is shit and he’s allowed zero creative freedom, but at least he _has_ a job at all. Things could be worse. Things could be a lot worse.

Once the issue with the woman is sorted out, Gerard steps forwards. “Um, hi,” he says, smiling to the receptionist, who just looks relieved to be speaking to someone at least slightly more sane than the previous woman. “A boy came in here a couple days ago after getting hit by a car, and I—well, I don’t know his name, but I just wanna, like check up on him? I mean, I hit him, and I feel really bad, and, like—”

“The boy with the tattoos?” the receptionist cuts him off, smiling as she dug for a file. Gerard nods once, thankful she’d shut him up before he’d gone into a full-on ramble. “His name is Frank—Frank Lero. He’s in room 121, just down the hall in _that_ direction.” 

“Thank you so much,” Gerard gushes, smiling. “Um, he’s okay, right? Like, not hurt too bad?”

“No worries—I doubt he’ll be filing for a lawsuit.” Gerard frowns again, because, to be honest, he didn’t even know that was a possibility. “He has two broken ribs and a few scrapes and bruises, but he’ll be out by tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, okay, good. Thanks again.” He gives a little half-wave and turns to find the boy with the tattoos and broken ribs. Ribs that Gerard broke. Gerard cringes at the thought as he spots room 121. The door is closed, so he takes a deep breath and knocks. 

There’s a pause before a voice, presumably Frank’s, says, “Uh, come in?” 

Gerard pushes open the door and peeks inside. The boy is there, sitting up in the hospital bed, eyes wide and confused. His lip is split and he has a large bandage over his cheek, but Gerard can’t see any other damage. He steps inside. “Hi,” he says, waving awkwardly before cramming his fists into his pockets.

“Hi,” Frank’s lips pull down. “I think you have the wrong room or something.”

Gerard shakes his head. “No, no. You’re Frank, right? I’m here to see you. And, um, apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I was the one who hit you,” Gerard admits, taking a small step closer to the bed. He can’t help but admire how pretty Frank is, even with the bandages and unwashed hair. He hadn’t been able to see his face very well after the accident, partly because it was dark, and partly because he’d been really, _really_ tired. He’d worked fourteen hours straight to fill a deadline that day, and was about ready to crash. Well, he supposes—he _did_ crash. Into Frank. 

“Oh,” Frank’s nose wrinkles, and for a moment he looks revolted, but the moment quickly passes and he begins to laugh. “Oh, God,” he says, and the laugh swallows his voice. 

Gerard watches him, frowning yet again, for about twenty seconds before he starts to get a little worried. The laughter is really, _really_ manic, and he swears he just saw something glistening on Frank’s cheek. “Hey, uh, are you okay?” he takes another step closer and ducks down to Frank’s eye level. He’s crying, alright, but he’s trying to hide it with his hands and hair. “What’s wrong?”

Frank sniffs and wails between breaths, the laughter dissipating into the tears. “I—you—you’re the only p-perso—” his quivering voice is hard to make out, but he tries his best to enunciate. “—the only person who’s v-visited m-me,” he says eventually, then buries his head in his hands.

“Oh,” Gerard says, and looks around. For the first time he notices the significant lack of flowers and “Get well soon!” cards. Heart aching, he sits on the edge of the bed. “Hey, it’s okay. Nobody would visit me in the hospital either.” 

Frank doesn’t seem to find that comforting and instead flaps his hands around in frustration, accidentally smacking Gerard’s shoulder in the process. “I’m a failure!” he sobs. 

“No you’re not,” Gerard swallows. He’s never been very good at this whole _comfort_ thing. One time when he was in high school, his little brother got in a big fight with one of his best friends, and Gerard thought it would be a good idea to get him _really_ drunk. His brother was twelve. Anyways, it ended in the ambulance getting called because his wasted little brother stuck a fucking fork in the toaster. Gerard is _really not good at this whole comfort thing._ “Maybe everyone was just really busy, or maybe they didn’t know you got hurt,” Gerard says. 

Frank shakes his head, his sobs starting to die down. He wipes his cheeks off, but they’re wet again a moment later because he’s still crying. “I just—no—no, they weren’t busy. Gah, I’m such a baby. You probably think I’m some kind of freak.”

Gerard snorts, shaking his head. “You _are_ some kind of freak for thinking that I would think that you’re some kind of freak.”

“…What?” Frank pouts, looking up at Gerard. His eyes are really beautiful, Gerard thinks, and then mentally slaps himself. This kid looks like he just got out of high school and Gerard fucking _hit him with his car._ He’s probably sorta most likely off limits.

“Look,” Gerard says and takes Frank’s hand. Both their eyes widen in surprise at the gesture, but Gerard just rolls with it. “You seem pretty cool, and—”

“—You don’t know anything about me—”

Gerard ignores Frank’s interruption, “—and you shouldn’t take the whole ‘visit’ thing so hard. Seriously. The only person who showed up to my college graduation was my dog, and I dragged him there. And he wasn’t even allowed on the lawn, so I had to leave him tied to the bike rack.”

“That’s sad, man. But dogs are cool.” 

Gerard smiles, proud that Frank has stopped crying and it may have had something to do with his words. “Dogs are the best. Do you have any?”

Frank nods. “Yeah, a silly chihuahua-mutt-thing named Sweet Pea. Stupidest damn dog ever and ugly as fuck, but I love her.”

Gerard manages to hold in his “aww,” because he’s a manly man who does manly things. “Mine’s a beagle and lab mix named Sparklecake. I call him ‘Cake’ for short.” A manly manly man. 

Frank smiles. “Sparklecake and Sweet Pea. They sound like they’re meant to be.” 

Gerard also smiles. Both boys by this point have either forgotten or are pretending to have forgotten the fact that they’re holding hands. Gerard is also sort of in shock, because he’s never been able to have a successful conversation with a cute boy before. Maybe it’s only happening because Frank technically can’t run away, though. 

There’s a short silence, not long enough to be awkward, but long enough to worry about it becoming awkward, before Frank says, “So I should probably get your number. I mean, so the dogs can meet, of course.”

“Uh, of course,” Gerard says, and he thinks his throat might be closing up. He, regretfully, lets go of Frank’s hand to pull out his phone. He opens a new contact before passing the phone to Frank. “So the dogs can meet.” 

“Of course,” Frank repeats, smiling as he types in his information. His face is still red and blotchy from crying, but Gerard doesn’t mind. He thinks seeing Frank like this will make seeing him all cleaned up even better. “There ya’ are.” 

Gerard takes his phone back, peeking at the new name. It reads “Frankie and Sweet Pea,” and this time, Gerard really _does_ “aw” out loud. He instantly slaps his hand over his mouth, blushing profusely, but Frank just laughs. 

“Look, so,” Gerard passes his hand over the nape of his neck. “I really am sorry for, like, hitting you. So so _so_ sorry. Seriously, let me know if you need me to help you with anything, ‘cause I can. I just… I feel really bad.”

Frank shrugs and shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. It was nighttime and I was wearing dark clothes. I’ll just send you the bill.” Gerard’s eyes grow exponentially, and Frank laughs again. “I’m kidding, jeez! I’ll have no problem covering it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard says, though he really doesn’t want to get stuck with that bill. He still has four years of _art school_ to pay off, plus the rent for his apartment is due next week. He can’t actually afford any bit of that hospital bill.

“I’m positive. My business is booming right now and I’m practically swimming in cash.”

“Your… business?” Gerard asks, surprised. He figured this kid was probably in college or something. 

Frank nods. “I own a tattoo shop just down the road from where you ran me over.” 

“O-oh, wow. I’m sorry about that, by the way.” The prospects of a boyfriend with _money_ start swarming Gerard’s mind, and he can barely sit still. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Frank smiles. Gerard really likes that smile. 

“Okay, well, uh, I should get going,” Gerard says, “my lunch break is almost over.” 

“Alright,” Frank says, and Gerard internally dances when he sees how the boy’s face falls slightly. “Don’t forget to call me, now,” Frank warns. “Sweet Pea will be really sad if she doesn’t get to meet Sparklecake.” 

“Okay,” Gerard grins knowingly and stands. “Uh, in the meantime, get better, and I’m really—”

“If you apologize for running me over one more time I’ll run you over.” 

Gerard giggles and starts towards the door. “Okay, okay. Bye. I’ll call you.”

He leaves the room, a massive smile plastered to his dorky goddamn face. A cute boy with dogs and tattoos and a business of his own—a cute boy who likes Gerard _back._ It’s pretty much Gerard’s dream come true.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is sorta sucky but I hope you at least kind of enjoy it. Shitty title too but whatever


End file.
